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take two
Rang you on a Monday with my sordid cliches--
For one October week and three self-indulgent days,
I trudged through the rain with my sunglasses on…
the Usual:
constant, bleak, stinging…
without so much as a dramatic thunderclap to justify my wallow!
no consoling lightning display,
no veiny electrocution to break up the ever-slate sky…
(sometimes that gray is brighter than welding, and more painful to stare at.)
met your spiny-haired literary friend at that one deadly crosswalk:
(too cool to stand up straight.)
he mumbled something about a witchtrial then remarked, in faux brogue,
"we're all frightened little mice, lass."
like me, he's challenged by eye contact.
the deluge persisted…
widowlike, sequestered
behind those fogged and pointless lenses,
eyes about to pour…
had to remind myself,
"don't overflow."
I thought you'd write a song about me
(I'm so vain)
imagined it angry
about 21 year old girls
about no straight answers.
(the subject instead, our incense-saturated Catholic brand of shame.)
surprised to find, when I awoke--
one week and four days later,
tangled sheets,
dried-up streets,
and a sky to rival Caribbean seas.
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